I learned all I know by the age of nine But I could better myself if I could only find some kind of kick Something I ain’t had Some new kind of buzz I wanna go hog mad

And it’s true. For me nothing has really replaced alcohol and, indeed, anything else that may have been part of my lifestyle at that time. And I was talking with a good friend during the week about asking a woman out and it’s always been about asking her out for a drink and, somehow, the idea of ‘catching up over a coffee’ still isn’t quite the same.

Apart from that consideration, the rest of my pre-university planning is going okay, thanks.

But I would like to say a mega thanks to Missie K for re-introducing me to a pleasure I had long forgotten – the university library – altho’ the one we visited was much more open plan than the old Glasgow University Library, which I seem to remember going to. Once. It had no late licence.

This one had push button closed shelving, the type of shelving that more experienced people might associate with shelves full of archives and a steering wheel at the end in which people get trapped in middle class dramas and die slowly and painfully or is my imagination too feral/viral/virile?

Y’see, I always thought an off-duty fireman was every woman’s fantasy but having seen pics of a bog standard fireman’s calendar during the week, I am considering bringing out a January to December calendar of me as a semi-naked pescetarian, recovered alcoholic. July will have me with a couple of large pollocks.

It’s an Alaskan fish. 

And friend and colleague, the gorgeous W, has finished with Brad Pitt (I may need to re-write that, Skippy, before the Hollywood gossip columns read this blog, ‘cos they do) and she had some really amazing stories but they must remain confidential. I was told these stories in a very private setting. Strathclyde Country Park.

I really must find a better place to park my car than the gay cottagers’ car park. So I would like to thank W and her smashing dog for staying with me whilst I changed my shoes and socks there. Yes. Those are new socks. Yes. The toes are colour co-ordinated. But, (ha!) you did not see the fact they also have the days of the week on them and that I was wearing Sunday’s socks on a Wednesday. I am that kind of rebel!

(Can I stress that ‘changing shoes and socks’ in a gay car park is not a euphemism? I did look at the Urban Dictionary to check. I had, however, considered ‘Walking the Dog’ as the opening lyric but also checked. Those of you of a nervous disposition, should NOT, I repeat, NOT, look at that reference in the Urban Dictionary. Will the other 99.9% please put me on the Taskbar and I’ll go and have a coffee? Alone.

I also checked out AC/DC for possible use in a future blog. Wasn’t quite what I expected)

And on the subject of music, recent openers have come from top deejay, Andrew Weatherall…..wonder if he’s good enough for Velvet Elvis,  Glasgow’s top spot in the West End.

Can I also stress that the gay guys of Strathclyde Park are not into BDSM and/or are very honest? We left the dog’s lead on the bonnet of one of the cars and it was still there when we got back two and a half hours later…..or is my imagination too feral/viral/virile?

And it says that you can fry quorn bacon rashers on the back of the packet. It ain’t rocket salad. Actually, better in a frying pan….not fry it ‘on the back of the packet’. I wonder how Paisley is for pescetarians. It’s got this amazing small street, Shuttle Street (weavers’ cottages), which is like the sleazy end of Sauchiehall Street, and there slap bang in the middle, is Anabelle Goldie’s office.

And finally, whilst accepting that all of my personae may be just  too experienced for a shop like Hollister, I was soooooooooooo disappointed the other day to be in Primark. There was no queue at the Cash and Wrap but I just couldn’t find anything to buy. It was one of those days. You get ‘em.

Cya, keep(ing) it fun and still wearing that badge? It never ventured out into the car park, tbh.

JohnT850, who once recorded a two hour radio programme about Strathclyde Park with Jimmie Macgregor and Jimmy Mack, but never ever knew about its mass appeal. Next week, the Watersports Centre.

So Son Brian is now a Chartered Accountant and 25 and there are other significances to the date 12th September for me and the t850 family. Apart from the day we had to break into my mum’s house cos she’d collapsed, it means I’ve been clean and clear for four years nine months, which is jolly frightening considering the Post Grad in Drink’n’Drugs I start in two weeks’ time.  My stomach churns and a drowsy numbness…….

I’ve been doing some academic reading and I dwell at bits and think that was me. The detox hallucination chapter is good. I’m not sure that people believe me when I say I fought off the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse that Sunday afternoon. All I know is it cost me, ultimately, £100 to get cleaners in to tidy up the mess.

I may dream, what seems to other people, impossible dreams but they’re sober ones. In my mind they are achievable. I am alive to dream them.

Oh, and my waist size is almost back to 30”……..32” required an extra tightening notch in my belt. No. No euphemism. Anything’s possible. I like the sound of this diet, tho’. It’s Brian Butterfield’s.



One Response to “I learned all I know by the age of nine But I could better myself if I could only find some kind of kick Something I ain’t had Some new kind of buzz I wanna go hog mad”

  1. Antonia Kneefe Says:

    Dead indited written content , Really enjoyed looking through .

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